Author:
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sukichann Fandom: Original Story .
Title: South of hope.
Status: Unfinished . Long history.
Chapter: 1
Words: 1,675
Notes: I present that would be my NaNo-project, which obviously had to leave because he could not reconcile the trio tests + NaNo + treball de recerca. The main plot of the story based on the relationship between Ishmael, a simple innkeeper of the Gothic Quarter Barcelona and Aroa, a girl whose greatest dream is to become a sports star, with all the difficulties that that entails (especially for a woman). Yes, this cartoon is part of football. No, not Oliver and Benji . Most of the action takes place outside the field, and the protagonist is not going to go through a whole chapter by an internal monologue about the thousand and one possible way to kick a penalty.
I must say I feel quite unsafe for posting this first chapter: since January! I do not write an original story ... and lost practice, if it ever came to having it ¡///¡ So would greatly appreciate your reviews , either praise or constructive criticism ... help me a lot to follow, I hope.
And the title of the story is a source of angry youth memory of Loquillo.
Rekalde
The bar was located in the heart of Barcelona's Gothic Quarter, just over a mile from downtown. He had virtually nothing to distinguish it from other bars, was small but cozy in its proper place, with white wood-paneled walls, a few round tables accompanied by dark brown black stools, and a great bar that is imposed from one end to the tavern. Rekalde walls were decorated with dozens of photos, scarves, autographs and other items related to the Athletic Club of Bilbao Iñaki Arazola, the bar owner, brought Vizcaya when he emigrated to the city. It was his little 'treasure' particular, and show it to customers of the bar as if it were their own gallery of art, something he considered. Dozens of posters of the 'Lions' most illustrious, as Julen Guerrero, Goikoetxea or Iribar rested on the walls of the tavern and was accompanied by a photograph of the complete Arazola family in the stands at San Mames stadium.
Arazola arrived in Barcelona with his wife in September 1982, shortly after the Italian, with Pablito Rossi in front, was proclaimed World Champion in Spain. Just six months before his only son was born, Ishmael, who is currently busy with work as a waiter Rekalde. Ismael was twenty years, the membership card of the Athletic Club of Bilbao, a boundless sympathy with their customers and a business studies that never came to an end. They put that name in honor of Ismael Urtubia, the runner up team from Bilbao that gave their fans so much success in that glorious year 82. It was a very simple guy and conventional, robust, normal stature, with hair and dark eyes, and a hidden tummy brewer who resigned after many attempts to eliminate, despite regularly playing football in a club district formed by his childhood friends, to participating in the occasional amateur tournament.
was a Sunday night, so the Arazola bar was full, as usual, the T-forties with Barca and with their wives, who looked upon everywhere but to any of the two large plasma TV set in the wall, trying not to be infected by the fever, football, the old men who came with their cigarettes and be filled with beer and sausage sandwiches prepared by Romina, one of the cooks at the tavern. There was also a minority of young boys engaged in playing football or billiards and eventually also turned to look at the screen, just in time to see the moves of greatest danger. Ismael
serving in the far left of the bar where the taps were preparing a pair of rods when she sat a few meters. He was surprised to see one for the first time after so many matches he had seen accompanied by his friends in his bar ... maybe that's why almost all the beer spilled on the floor, but with a little luck, managed to control his clumsiness. Should be about six or seven years younger than he was tall, with a slender body. Half had brown hair and almond eyes and deep, you always shunned those looking for fear of being lost in them, a dark, almost black.
- Give me another clear to me too, please, the girl sat slightly to the point where it was Ishmael, with a strong voice and a faint smile on his face.
“Marchando”, respondió Ismael, sonriente. Quedaban sólo diez minutos para que el Barcelona-Zaragoza diera su comienzo, la voz de Joaquim Maria Puyal empezaba a sonar por los bafles instalados a lo largo del bar, y el Rekalde ya se estaba llenando de aforo, ruidos, humo, y estrés para los camareros. Sirvió apresuradamente las cervezas a dos muchachos, y en escasos segundos la joven se vio sorprendida con la copa de cerveza y limón posada delante de ella. Se la llevó a los labios, bajo la feliz mirada del pobre y joven tabernero, quien decidió darse un pequeño pero plácido descanso antes de volver al agobio al que tantas veces le sometía la clientela.
- Qué rápido –dijo, after they take a first drink to drink, "Thanks.
- To you, "he said, without erasing the smile from his face. He had seen countless times, yet had not yet spoken, or at least nothing beyond the typical server-client relationship. And there was always a first time for everything, or not - is the first time I see one around here.
- I guess that my colleagues will soon come, his eyes took on the wrist, decorated with a glass of white with silver stones "Though already late. I think I will be playing follow the first few minutes alone ...
- This bar is impossible to feel Ismael just laughed, referring to the entire crowd every weekend copaba the Rekalde .- At least, if you like soccer ... as in your case, right?
- The truth is I do, "he said, resting her head on his arm and with a sigh," I love since I was a kid ... actually, I play football in Badalona.
- Really? Wow, was surprised Ismael "I know many girls that they like, and even less to play.
- For any, and very good. "Said confident. He laughed as he continued his glass of beer in one hand, and the other playing with a lock of his hair.-Lo The problem is that, in that, men do not acostumbráis to see beyond your nose.
- That's a lie!
- Now, you know who is Messi, right? She asked, glancing examiner when he noticed his surprise.
- Damn, it snorted Ismael clear, but could not laugh, I'm almost-owner of a bar. I have to know who is on his face.
- Ya-whisper But if you wonder who is Marta da Silva, what would you say?
- Marta gives what?
- Marta da Silva! "She insisted, with an inertia that almost makes up the stool-It won the FIFA World Player ...
- Wow, must be good, then.
- ... for three years running. And is 23 years ... imagine! It's awesome.
"Damn!" He said Ishmael. Soon be back to serve refreshments and canes to other customers, without losing sight for a moment that girl who had left him stunned many times in the few minutes they talked together. Saw aside for a moment the sight of him to lay her eyes on one of the photographs pasted on the walls of the bar, where she saw a young Ismael Arazola with the football team of his group of friends, dubbed The Baixinho FC, in honor of Romario and low average height of its components (few were those who exceeded 1.75 between them).
- So you also play soccer, she concluded.
- Not as much as I would, "admitted" We're just a team of colleagues. We make pachangas and participate in any amateur tournament, but nothing more.
- And what position do you play? I have curiosity.
- striker I replied, adding with a triumphant tone: - And the best foul shooter you've met in your life, sure. Juninho or better than Del Piero. And the shots of Beckham have no point of comparison with mine.
- No kidding. That is almost impossible.
- Believe me, someday I'll prove it.
- You have not seen mine, "she defended herself, who burst out laughing" You should know Claudia, that of my team. It is a killer. Fixed it would have nightmares about it!
- If you say so ... "Ishmael looked down, smiling," And you, this ...?
- Aroa.
- Aroa, "he repeated, tasting as if that name was like honey on her lips What position are you?
- Set on the right side, but I often go further in the extreme. To go to the counter and give more vertical to the game, and sat ... eh! Santi! Aroa
was startled when a pair of arms, big, muscular and dressed in black leather, appeared from nowhere and suddenly surrounded his waist. It was a tall, heavyset with cropped hair and wearing a leather waistcoat, who ate the girl kisses on the cheeks first and then shamelessly down her lips and neck, under the astonished gaze Ismael, whose joy vanished instantly.
No, I could not afford to lose losing a second of your time with such a spectacle: the party had just begun and that gave the starting signal for frantic work Rekalde waiters, serving beers and patatas bravas rations left and right. Ismael was with all the attention and kindness I could to all its customers, but always found a gap between this hard to look askance at Aroa, Puyal singing animatedly with each of the six goals he scored the club that night, as was the target Santi looks enraptured.
who seemed to be the boyfriend of the girl sat beside her and asked Ismael median. Serve it soon, though inside could you desire to take something different within the bottle. Yes, that is, something more ... lethal. But it was not: I wish I had something between all those potions that do indeed!
decided to leave for that occasion. Another might be.
football-ish
The bar was located in the heart of Barcelona's Gothic Quarter, just over a mile from downtown. He had virtually nothing to distinguish it from other bars, was small but cozy in its proper place, with white wood-paneled walls, a few round tables accompanied by dark brown black stools, and a great bar that is imposed from one end to the tavern. Rekalde walls were decorated with dozens of photos, scarves, autographs and other items related to the Athletic Club of Bilbao Iñaki Arazola, the bar owner, brought Vizcaya when he emigrated to the city. It was his little 'treasure' particular, and show it to customers of the bar as if it were their own gallery of art, something he considered. Dozens of posters of the 'Lions' most illustrious, as Julen Guerrero, Goikoetxea or Iribar rested on the walls of the tavern and was accompanied by a photograph of the complete Arazola family in the stands at San Mames stadium.
Arazola arrived in Barcelona with his wife in September 1982, shortly after the Italian, with Pablito Rossi in front, was proclaimed World Champion in Spain. Just six months before his only son was born, Ishmael, who is currently busy with work as a waiter Rekalde. Ismael was twenty years, the membership card of the Athletic Club of Bilbao, a boundless sympathy with their customers and a business studies that never came to an end. They put that name in honor of Ismael Urtubia, the runner up team from Bilbao that gave their fans so much success in that glorious year 82. It was a very simple guy and conventional, robust, normal stature, with hair and dark eyes, and a hidden tummy brewer who resigned after many attempts to eliminate, despite regularly playing football in a club district formed by his childhood friends, to participating in the occasional amateur tournament.
was a Sunday night, so the Arazola bar was full, as usual, the T-forties with Barca and with their wives, who looked upon everywhere but to any of the two large plasma TV set in the wall, trying not to be infected by the fever, football, the old men who came with their cigarettes and be filled with beer and sausage sandwiches prepared by Romina, one of the cooks at the tavern. There was also a minority of young boys engaged in playing football or billiards and eventually also turned to look at the screen, just in time to see the moves of greatest danger. Ismael
serving in the far left of the bar where the taps were preparing a pair of rods when she sat a few meters. He was surprised to see one for the first time after so many matches he had seen accompanied by his friends in his bar ... maybe that's why almost all the beer spilled on the floor, but with a little luck, managed to control his clumsiness. Should be about six or seven years younger than he was tall, with a slender body. Half had brown hair and almond eyes and deep, you always shunned those looking for fear of being lost in them, a dark, almost black.
- Give me another clear to me too, please, the girl sat slightly to the point where it was Ishmael, with a strong voice and a faint smile on his face.
“Marchando”, respondió Ismael, sonriente. Quedaban sólo diez minutos para que el Barcelona-Zaragoza diera su comienzo, la voz de Joaquim Maria Puyal empezaba a sonar por los bafles instalados a lo largo del bar, y el Rekalde ya se estaba llenando de aforo, ruidos, humo, y estrés para los camareros. Sirvió apresuradamente las cervezas a dos muchachos, y en escasos segundos la joven se vio sorprendida con la copa de cerveza y limón posada delante de ella. Se la llevó a los labios, bajo la feliz mirada del pobre y joven tabernero, quien decidió darse un pequeño pero plácido descanso antes de volver al agobio al que tantas veces le sometía la clientela.
- Qué rápido –dijo, after they take a first drink to drink, "Thanks.
- To you, "he said, without erasing the smile from his face. He had seen countless times, yet had not yet spoken, or at least nothing beyond the typical server-client relationship. And there was always a first time for everything, or not - is the first time I see one around here.
- I guess that my colleagues will soon come, his eyes took on the wrist, decorated with a glass of white with silver stones "Though already late. I think I will be playing follow the first few minutes alone ...
- This bar is impossible to feel Ismael just laughed, referring to the entire crowd every weekend copaba the Rekalde .- At least, if you like soccer ... as in your case, right?
- The truth is I do, "he said, resting her head on his arm and with a sigh," I love since I was a kid ... actually, I play football in Badalona.
- Really? Wow, was surprised Ismael "I know many girls that they like, and even less to play.
- For any, and very good. "Said confident. He laughed as he continued his glass of beer in one hand, and the other playing with a lock of his hair.-Lo The problem is that, in that, men do not acostumbráis to see beyond your nose.
- That's a lie!
- Now, you know who is Messi, right? She asked, glancing examiner when he noticed his surprise.
- Damn, it snorted Ismael clear, but could not laugh, I'm almost-owner of a bar. I have to know who is on his face.
- Ya-whisper But if you wonder who is Marta da Silva, what would you say?
- Marta gives what?
- Marta da Silva! "She insisted, with an inertia that almost makes up the stool-It won the FIFA World Player ...
- Wow, must be good, then.
- ... for three years running. And is 23 years ... imagine! It's awesome.
"Damn!" He said Ishmael. Soon be back to serve refreshments and canes to other customers, without losing sight for a moment that girl who had left him stunned many times in the few minutes they talked together. Saw aside for a moment the sight of him to lay her eyes on one of the photographs pasted on the walls of the bar, where she saw a young Ismael Arazola with the football team of his group of friends, dubbed The Baixinho FC, in honor of Romario and low average height of its components (few were those who exceeded 1.75 between them).
- So you also play soccer, she concluded.
- Not as much as I would, "admitted" We're just a team of colleagues. We make pachangas and participate in any amateur tournament, but nothing more.
- And what position do you play? I have curiosity.
- striker I replied, adding with a triumphant tone: - And the best foul shooter you've met in your life, sure. Juninho or better than Del Piero. And the shots of Beckham have no point of comparison with mine.
- No kidding. That is almost impossible.
- Believe me, someday I'll prove it.
- You have not seen mine, "she defended herself, who burst out laughing" You should know Claudia, that of my team. It is a killer. Fixed it would have nightmares about it!
- If you say so ... "Ishmael looked down, smiling," And you, this ...?
- Aroa.
- Aroa, "he repeated, tasting as if that name was like honey on her lips What position are you?
- Set on the right side, but I often go further in the extreme. To go to the counter and give more vertical to the game, and sat ... eh! Santi! Aroa
was startled when a pair of arms, big, muscular and dressed in black leather, appeared from nowhere and suddenly surrounded his waist. It was a tall, heavyset with cropped hair and wearing a leather waistcoat, who ate the girl kisses on the cheeks first and then shamelessly down her lips and neck, under the astonished gaze Ismael, whose joy vanished instantly.
No, I could not afford to lose losing a second of your time with such a spectacle: the party had just begun and that gave the starting signal for frantic work Rekalde waiters, serving beers and patatas bravas rations left and right. Ismael was with all the attention and kindness I could to all its customers, but always found a gap between this hard to look askance at Aroa, Puyal singing animatedly with each of the six goals he scored the club that night, as was the target Santi looks enraptured.
who seemed to be the boyfriend of the girl sat beside her and asked Ismael median. Serve it soon, though inside could you desire to take something different within the bottle. Yes, that is, something more ... lethal. But it was not: I wish I had something between all those potions that do indeed!
decided to leave for that occasion. Another might be.
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